


the sun's in the sky, it makes for happy endings

by dingletragedy



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: M/M, lot's of sunsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26465779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy
Summary: five conversations ben and callum share under the setting sun
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	the sun's in the sky, it makes for happy endings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfwayinit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwayinit/gifts).



> this little fic is for my favourite @halfwayinit, as part of the ballum lockdown exchange over on tumblr!!! how lucky am i that i got katie for both ballum-related events recently!!! it's been a joy working on this fic for you my love, and i hope you enjoy all the little references to your 5 favourite ballum songs and tropes <333 love you lots x

**_I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life._ **

Sunset has only just begun, and it’s slow tonight, a giant orange and blue gradient that blurs perfectly together, not wavering. Wiping at his eyes, Callum rounds the square, and soon finds himself at the gate of the park, where he knows Ben will be, and as sure as anything, he is. Reclined on an old bench, his eyes closed, breathing steadily.

“Hey,” Callum greets, he feels both relieved and tense. Relieved he’s managed to track Ben down after their argument earlier, before either parties could do anything regrettable. Tense, because he feels this is it; _make or break._ He lowers himself on the bench beside Ben, careful to meet his eye-line. 

“ _Cal_ ,” Ben whispers, shaky. “How did you know I’d be here?” 

“I know you.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Ben says, his hand finding Callum’s amongst the setting sun. “I never meant for any of this, I thought I was protecting you—I thought—I’m just, I’m sorry.” 

“I know that, too,” Callum reassures, thumb rubbing over the back of Ben’s hand.

“It’s been so long since I’ve felt love like this, Cal,” he says. “And I care about you so much, more than I ever thought possible. You make me want to be better, to be kind, and as lovely as you are, you know that. But sometimes—sometimes I get so lost in my head, of this unworthiness, so lost looking for this approval that I don’t need.”

Ben stops, lips pulling into his mouth for a moment, eyes cutting away as he takes in a breath.

“I used to think it was the only thing I needed in the world, my Dad’s approval,” he continues, and Callum shakes his head, squeezes Ben’s hand tighter as he speaks. “But it’s not. I need love, laughter, and hope, and courage. You give me all of those things, and so much more. You don’t even realise what you’ve done for me, Callum. Everything you’ve given me. This life given me, this life I _want_ to live.” 

“Ben,” Callum says, voice edged. The dark is creeping upon them now, late evening saying it’s goodbye to the day, passing the moon as it does and in the burnt oranges that consume them, Ben’s eyes shine. His face shines, all these parts of him shine. 

“And I refuse to make any of these stupid, childish mistakes again. I refuse to trap myself in the shadow of my Dad anymore,” Ben says, brave and certain, fingers curling against Callum’s. “And if you stay–”

“Of course I’m staying,” Callum says, the words falling from his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please don’t,” Ben whispers. “I’d be lost without you, Cal. But, I—I don’t want to trap you, or make you feel like you have to make this impossible choice, or give up on your dreams, or anything.”

“It’s like you said,” Callum says, trying to show Ben he understands, keeping their eyes locked. “You’ve given me so much. A family, a home, love and light and pride. But you have to meet me in the middle, Ben, for us to work together and never against each other, I can’t do this again.” 

They stare at each other, chests moving in tandem, emotions of the last couple of weeks, _months_ , surrounding them, dancing like dust particles in the setting sun, floating into the air, leaving space new, happier memories to fill. Above, the sky is set in hazy rose and purple now, not a cloud in sight as the giant sun sinks under the bricks of Walford. It looks close enough to touch.

“I love you,” Ben says, and Callum lets the last of it go, let’s the sun come down, feels it pull everything that’s been hurting them, and bury it in the night.

 _I love you too,_ Callum signs. Just because. 

There’s a beat, the words glistening between them, and then Ben surges forward.

When their mouths touch again, and it’s molten, soft and a rush of warmth spreads from where their hands are still joined, all the way down their bodies. 

As they pull away, Ben blinks up at him, eyes dancing and smile too. They stare at each other for a moment, and Callum just lets it rush over him, lets himself go. He tells himself to stop thinking, to stop worrying, to put himself in the here and now; not tomorrow, not when he’s back at the station, or when he’s giving Phil a piece of his mind. 

Right now he’s got to let himself be happy. Ben’s mouth twitches, and Callum knows that he’s happy, too.

_They’ll work it out. They always do._

**_You make my heart feel like it’s summer, when the rain is pouring down._ **

Brighton lies before them in a late-sun haze, a dark pink sky and the only remainder of the sun being the yellow reflections on the water. The world is lit half by the fading sun and half by the twinkling streetlights and the honey-glow of the city.

“ _Wow_ ,” Callum breathes, eyes roaming over the happy faces, the love and the laughter of it all. 

Ben is practically vibrating beside him, smile so bright it could blind, almost bouncing on his feet as he leans against Callum’s side, his eyes manically at his surroundings, ears peeking at every sound. Callum watches down on him fondly, forgets to even observe what’s around him for a moment because with Ben right there, hair coiled tight from the humid air and his body shadowed in pink and gold light, he can’t stop himself from looking.

“I really can’t believe you’ve never been to Brighton before,” Ben ponders, shaking his head fondly. “I mean it’s literally the gay capital, Cal. A trip here and you earn yourself your fully-fledged gay licence.” 

Callum lets out a soft giggle and runs his hand through Ben’s hair, pushes it off his forehead as he bites his bottom lip and looks intently out to the sea. 

From here, he can see the pier in the distance, the rickety ground of the wood and the water. Shops and bars surrounding. The sun is setting between it all, gigantic and soft around the edges. It seems so close, so tangible that if Callum swum into the icy water, he’d be able to reach it soon enough.

But if Callum thinks that sun is impressive, the one sat beside him is a whole different game. 

"Let’s go listen to those seagulls, then.” 

They walk with their hands locked together, fingers pressed into the slots Callum imagines were made for each other. Their breaths swirl in quiet laughter, floating up into the sea air, and to Callum, Ben is the only person in the world. 

As they reach Palace Pier, a cone of salty chips between them, Ben’s grin takes over his entire face. _Seagulls_. 

They’re everywhere; lining the pier, white tips dipping into the sea, squeaking as they scavenge for chips and children’s ice cream. 

Callum feels awful for delaying this moment, but he knows they needed to. Needed to, to be where they are now. He didn’t want this moment to be met with any hostility. 

And now, as Ben eyes shine with amazement, Callum feels like he’s part of something, something so big he can barely put it into words. There’s a sense of togetherness and understanding, a sense of family even though he doesn’t know anyone around him. He feels loved without being told so, feels wanted without the spoken word. He wishes his Dad hadn’t dismissed each of his pleas to visit the town as a confused teenager. _He needed it._

But Callum soon demolishes those thoughts, not wanting to taint a perfect moment. The waves are coming alive below them, rolling and breaking and crashing, a constant rhythm. A band, in the distance playing a lively tune, the beat reverting the walls of their hearts. The seagulls above, squeaking and loud, enough to frustrate even the most patient of people. But not Ben, and not Callum either. 

They’re silent for a beat, Callum blinking slowly down at him, water lapping against the sand in the distance, waves whispering lullabies. Slowly, they pull their eyes away and focus on the sea before them, on the seagulls filling the beach, and gliding through the tiny puddles of water. Down the beach, small clusters of families dot the edges of the rockpools. 

_“Yes,”_ Callum breaths, shaky yet certain. 

“Yes, what?” Ben says, gaze not wavering.

“Yes, I’ll move in with you,” he elaborates, braver than he feels, heart in his mouth. “I mean, that’s if the offer still stands?” 

“Nah, I think I’ve changed my mind actually,” Ben flashes his eyebrows, and Callum kicks his leg out at him, water flicking up between them.

_“Idiot.”_

“Of course the offer still stands, _dickhead_ ,” Ben whispers, flushing, and Callum laughs, bright and echoing up the sea, buried in Ben’s shoulder. “I want nothing more.” 

“Just for a bit though, whilst we look for a place of our own, deal?” 

_“Deal.”_

They spend the last minutes of sundown on the very edge of the pier, watching the gold light on the water slowly retract like a wave, only to be eclipsed by a pink-orange blush as the giant sun lowers below the still icebergs. Ben’s fingers rest over his gently as they lean against each other, and his skin is lit up in shadow and soft sun, something out of a grainy film, out of the old magazines Callum’s mum would read when he was a child. Their breath swirls in shiny clouds, and he thinks, distant and echoing, that this very well may be one of the most brilliant moments of his life.

“Thank you for today, Cal,” Ben says, their noses close, as he brings up a palm to Callum’s jaw. Callum’s soon entranced as he registers the warmth in Ben’s fingers, he can feel his pulse thudding, can see the flecks of blue in Ben’s eyes. 

As they share a kiss of warmth, careful and honey-sweet, a seagull, brave and bold, swoops in and swipes the remnants of their chips. 

“You still love those things as much?” Callum asks, smudging the words against Ben’s lips. 

“Hm, I’m starting to rethink that one.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_I see everything you can be, I see the beauty that you can’t see._ **

The sun looks like a mirage tonight, so bright that it fizzles in the distance like golden mist, an iridescent sparkle. 

The day’s sun had been intense and beaming, as it always is on Callum’s Mum’s birthday, the final few days of British summertime burning out like a flame; but already it’s starting its descent and painting shadows. 

They’re sat out on the rooftop of their new apartment, a photobook displayed carefully between them. Callum’s childhood laid bare through a series of pictures. 

Callum finds it then, the photo he’s looking for, tucked into an envelope from the summer before she left. _My favourite woman,_ written loopy and soft on the back. She’s in the kitchen, a mess of sugar and eggs covering every available surface. Her face is centred, and she’s smiling wide, almost caught in a laugh, flour on her pink cheeks, hair in disarray. But it’s her sunbeam smile that makes the photo. 

“She’s beautiful,” Ben whispers, stomach curling the longer he looks, and then he feels Callum’s fingers at his wrist, his head on Ben’s shoulder as they look down at it. “I can feel her warmth from here.”

“I remember taking this photo,” Callum says, and his voice is wet, thin. “We’d spent the morning baking a cake for Stu’s twenty-first birthday. I was only young, six or seven maybe, but doing this grown-up thing for him made me feel mature, _worthy_ , maybe. It was the best cake I’d ever baked, she couldn’t stop smiling, made up this story about how I’d be running a world-famous bakery one day, or a Michelin star restaurant alongside Gordon Ramsey. She was so proud, and it was just a cake.”

Ben smiles softly, vision blurring a little. “She reminds me of you.”

“I've got nothing on her.”

 _“No.”_ Ben shakes his head, gentle, thumb at Callum’s knee. “She does. The way you talk about her, I can feel that in you. Your happiness, those bright blue eyes that shine whenever you talk about her. Your love and freedom and passion. It’s all in you.”

Callum’s face tucks further into Ben’s shoulder, and gradually, Ben lets his cheek rest atop Callum’s head, the two of them resting together, eyes wet, Callum silent as he breathes slow and measured. 

“And I think she’d be proud of you,” Ben continues quietly, the words escaping before he can stop them, finds heat at his neck as he speaks. “The way you’re still going, all these years after losing her, dealing with so much shit from your Dad, losing yourself and finding yourself again. Even after everything, you’re still here, bright and brilliant. Not letting anybody tell you who to be, or what to feel. I can’t let you think nothing of yourself when I think so much of you. When I know your Mum would think more than the world of you.” 

He finds Callum’s hand, rests his fingers in the gaps between Callum’s. 

“I love you,” he whispers, ernest. 

Callum pulls away a little, facing Ben fully, and when Ben meets his eye carefully, he finds that Callum’s are shiny, full, lashes gone clumped.

“I love you, so much.” 

The sun waves them off to sleep with one last orange wink. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_I knew it from the first time, I’d stay for a long time cause’ I like me better when I‘m with you._ **

They’d driven out of London a couple of hours ago, and to a gorgeous open park on the outskirts, one of many anniversaries in celebration. Hiking isn’t exactly Ben’s thing, or rather, exercise isn’t his thing full stop, but Callum had seemed in his element all day, and the smile on his face, along with the gorgeous views, Ben can certainly appreciate. As the sun begins it’s slow descent from the sky, they find a spot and set up the picnic Callum spent all morning accumulating. Beneath the canopy of overhanging trees, their bodies draw close as they clink their plastic champagne flutes together, the golden liquid akin to the dappled sunlight cutting through the leaves, painting the boys in ribbons of colour. 

“I don’t compliment your cooking enough, shame on me,” Ben says around a bite of chorizo and cheese roll, almost to himself. “Honestly, how did you learn to cook like this, because I’m pretty sure you weren’t serving up Spanish cuisine in the army.” 

“My dad,” Callum says, eyes shining. “When I was a kid, I could cook before I could ride a bike. We used to get up every morning, bake a fresh loaf of bread or pastries before the sun had risen. The calm of the morning wouldn’t last for long, as soon as Dad and Stu could smell the goods, they’d in the kitchen demolishing them before they could even mumble a thank you.”

“Typical,” Ben says, ugly thoughts of the Highway father filling his mind, aching his heart, “it’s a nice thought that you and your mum got that time together each day. I don’t remember much about the time I spent with my Dad during my earlier childhood, but I’ll always remember him taking me to feed the ducks in those few years I got. It was the first thing I asked of him when I returned from South Africa if he would take me down to the bank again, but he shut me down instantly. Too much had changed. It was tradition for a while, I wanted to keep that up, so I kept going, no matter how weird it felt to go there without him.”

“I can imagine,” Calum says, his voice sounds tight, like he’s balancing on the edge of something dangerous. “That’s the weird thing about parents, though. Like, they give you all this stuff, all these experiences and memories, and then one day they can just—they can just be gone. They can just choose to leave. They’re just gone. But you still have all the things they gave you, only you have to learn how to do them on your own now.”

“But you always do,” Callum finishes, and Ben looks up at him, wide eyes nodding slowly.

“Yeah,” he says. 

It feels delicate, this conversation, and Ben feels himself grasp at something very real that Callum is choosing to show him, a little snippet of something beneath the sunshine exterior. Before he can stop himself, not that he ever should, Ben leans over and seals their lips together, fits Callum’s bottom lip between his own and sucks on it softly, bringing his hand up to trace his fingertips over his jaw lightly. Callum makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, a little sigh, and turns his palm over in Ben’s, linking their fingers together.

Ben can hear his heart pulsing in his ears, can feel his blood moving sluggishly through his veins, trying to get to his heart fast enough to keep him going. It’s crazy to think they’ve been together officially for one whole year now, but still, that heat never loses its flame. Callum’s mouth moves against Ben’s featherlight and gentle, yet there’s still a desperation there, an _I love you_ with each press of lips. 

Callum pulls away first, peach streaks dusting his cheeks and neck as he shovels a handful of raspberries into his mouth, sugar-sweet. Ben leans back, light playing over their skin as they casually shift away from each other, turning to lie on their bellies on the picnic blanket. He hides his smile into his forearms, and when he glances up, Callum is doing the same thing, already watching him back.

They fall into soft, absurd laughter then, and those butterflies that flutter against Callum's ribcage won’t still for even one second tonight. 

"You're amazing, Cal," Ben beams. It’s brighter than the lights dotting the streets in the distance. Callum is absolutely entranced by the stretch of his lips and the way his cheeks form in shape, pale skin and smooth bone. There’s something about him that reminds Callum of a sunset, a painting, _a beautiful thing._

**_I can feel your heart inside of mine. I feel it. I feel it._ **

It’s a cool night. Shadows start to pass over them as Ben and Callum make their way to the park. By the time they find themselves a quiet spot to lay, the looming trees show peeks of the sky turning from orange to blue, a curtain of navy slowly coming down and revealing the promise of a starry night. They’re relatively quiet, just whispering softly back and forth about nothing, fingers still linked and warm.  
  
“What’s your favourite song?” Ben asks suddenly. 

“God, that’s a pretty big question,” Callum says. “I don’t think I could pick.” 

“I only ask big questions,” Ben rolls onto his side and slings his arm over Callum’s stomach. “Show me, I want to hear it.”

“Why?” Callum shifts to face him. 

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever asked you before,” Ben explains, the light fading from his eyes for a brief second. “And when my hearing was completely gone, I realised I couldn’t even imagine the tune of my boyfriend’s favourite song, and that hurt.”

“Okay,” Callum hums, all too eager to switch that light back on. 

They lie on their bellies, Callum unlocks his phone and stops when his fingers land upon the song he never thought he’d share with anyone as his _favourite song._

“Here, this is my favourite song, but you have to promise not to laugh,” Callum says softly. He clicks play, soft strumming floating out of the tiny phone speakers, summer wind and soft sun. 

_If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you._

“Wait—wait, is this.. One Direction?” Ben laughs, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in mocking.

“Hey, you promised not to laugh,” Callum murmurs. “I really like it.” 

_I think I might give up everything, just ask me too._

Words mean more at night, like a song. They sit listening for another few seconds, ankles bumping together. “I expected you to play like, I don’t know, something cooler. Oasis maybe.” 

“One Direction are cool, thank you very much,” Callum elbows Ben, giggling. “Anyway, it’s more about the words than the song itself, you know?” 

_Pay attention I hope that you listen, because I let my guard down. Right now I’m completely defenceless_. 

“I listened to this song almost every day throughout lockdown,” Callum says, humming along. We’re just two lost souls, swimming in a fishbowl. “I don’t know why, it just made me miss you more.”

_“Soft.”_

The music continues, hazy and dreamlike, all whispers and echoes, so soft and fragile, an ode to love, to protect, to never be without. Callum glances up at Ben, and he’s met with all of those things and so much more. 

“Dance with me?” Callum asks.

“That’s _very_ cliche of you,” Ben says, smile soft.

“Cliches are fun,” Callum stands and pockets his phone, still playing the music, pulling up Ben with him. “I also just really want to dance with you, it’s been a long time.” 

“Okay,” Ben whispers, looping his arms around Callum’s neck, stretching on his toes as he does. They sway together, Ben tucked under Callum’s chin. Callum breathes out slow and hugs him close, arms wrapped entirely around his back, feeling his warm skin, kissing Ben’s neck as they sway to the music. 

_“For your eyes only, I’ll show you my heart,”_ he sings softly, presses the words right by Ben’s ear, feels him shiver, feels him tighten his hold and let out a quiet breath. _“For when you’re lonely, and forget who you are.”_

They’re dusted by moonlight now, all alone, blue and navy and silver, shiny eyes, wet lips. Callum connects their mouths, and it’s the most intimate moment. Ben lets out the softest sound, threads his fingers through Callum’s hair as they sway, pressed up close. Callum spreads his palms and draws patterns with his fingers on Ben’s back, _I love you_ , he writes, drawing the warmth from Ben’s body. Their chests are pressed so close, so tight, that their hearts beat together, back and forth like one. 

_I’m missing half of me, when we’re apart._

_Now you know me, for your eyes only._

After, they lie back down on the ground, Ben curled up, head on Callum’s chest. They lay there for hours, whispering and giggling and kissing, turning _nothings_ into _somethings_. Callum falls asleep as the sun does, comfortable under Ben’s even breathing and the drag of his lips on his neck, sated and soft.

**Author's Note:**

> dingletragedy on tumblr x


End file.
